


Stranded

by SimonBlackchill



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Married Banter, Married Chirrut Îmwe/Baze Malbus, Pre-Rogue One, Prompt Fic, soft feelings ....., spiritassassin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 04:14:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13990254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimonBlackchill/pseuds/SimonBlackchill
Summary: Baze and Chirrut have stolen an Imperial vehicle. They get stranded in the night of the Jedhan desert, an hour away from the Holy City. It's quite cold, and the two need to keep warm together.





	Stranded

Chirrut rolled his eyes and leaned against the back rest of his seat. The air conditioning coughed and the engine made sure people inside knew it was a wreck. Baze's curse words knew no limits, even when his beard hairs swallowed most of the syllables. The words and curses were not blasphemous or offensive to Chirrut, but they all struck annoying chords within him anyway. In the past over two decades of married life, however, he had learned to not listen to those chords.

Their small speeder had run out of juice right outside of Jedha. A stolen speeder, no less, or _wordlessly bargained_ , as Baze would say. A stolen speeder that had a good value on the underground market. A speeder that would earn some bread for the upcoming weeks. A speeder that could be made into parts. A speeder that was supposed to get them back to the city.

"And here we are, stranded," Chirrut said.

He heard Baze click off his seatbelt harness and open the glass door above them. Chirrut reached for his own but touched the buttons above it for a while, before clicking them.

"Don't you say it," Baze mumbled as he stood up, probably to see the surroundings. The Holy City, the Star Destroyer looming above. The very real danger of getting caught lingered, but it nevertheless did not reach Chirrut's panic centre to spread its contents wide open.

"Say what, exactly?"

"Whatever you're thinking."

"Such as, _one hell of a shortcut_?"

"Including, but not limited to."

Comments about reserving fuel came to mind. Chirrut let them flow in his brain, swirl on his tongue, even. Comments about how their original route could have gotten them to the Holy City before the engine had failed. Comments about Baze's interesting definition of shortcuts. But he bit them down, because just then they were not helpful.

Chirrut felt draft hit his face. The cold air of the night desert touched his skin like an unwanted guest. He was not entirely sure how big the speeder was, but judging from how it lifted up into the air after Baze had left it, it must have been rather minuscule. Perhaps it fit four people inside - a family-sized one. Baze was often the one to pick the vehicles they would indefinitely borrow and then share with others.

"It smells really terrible," Chirrut said.

"The engine is toast."

"And here I didn't think of packing jam with me." Chirrut rubbed his grumbling stomach.

Chirrut could feel Baze's tension, he heard it from the gruff grunt Baze made. "Well something sure is _jammed,_ " Chirrut remarked.

"We might not be home for breakfast," Baze muttered and opened the dashboard of the vehicle, leaned to it.

"I was looking forward to a bowl of noodle broth," Chirrut muttered also, not meaning it to be heard. "Nothing wakes you up quite like lukewarm water."

And like the unsatisfying breakfasts he was so used to, he let frustration dissolve within him, dissolve into all the other feelings he felt. Instead of pushing it down and thus causing resistance, he let the aura around himself take a hold of the feeling and let it flow into the Force, into the network of universal existence.

"I wish we had some," said Baze through some screeching of metal against the plastic tools he had scavenged from the back seats.

"We got a real mess of a vehicle," Chirrut commented.

"The troopers will leave everything behind," Baze said, "if it meant they don't have to carry stuff. Ah, curses, I sometimes wonder if they're made of paper."

Baze had two moods when his vernacular valve opened. One of them was frustration.

"Paper would have burned."

A grave silence followed Chirrut's words. A heavy sigh escaped Baze's broad chest. It had a raspy side tone to it, something that often worried Chirrut.

"Where are we anyhow? Far from the city I suppose."

"Yeah. One hour away."

"We will find our way back if it is the will of the Force," Chirrut matter-of-factly stated. "Maybe the engine just needs to cool down. It was parked with the engine running, and some sand may have gotten inside."

"Right."

"And you're not a mechanic."

"I can troubleshoot a damn Imperial speeder."

"Those who can find faults can't..."

"...always fix them. Yes, yes."

The air conditioner's hum had lessened, but something smoked inside nevertheless. Baze grunted as he tried the glass cover of the speeder a little, nudged it in a way that told Chirrut he was thinking about something. Perhaps about the fact that there was no way to close the speeder's lid without them suffocating in either heat or fumes. Waiting for daylight was their only choice, but waiting for daylight in an open speeder in the middle of the desert meant what Chirrut's body told him: cold.

He knew he visibly shivered as he wrapped his arms around himself to give himself a tight hug. He let his chin sink into the folds of his robes. Baze set his blaster on the open dashboard, the metal clank stayed quiet with the gentle placement. His hairs brushed against his shoulders as he moved his head around to inspect the pitch dark surroundings, the top of his head rubbed against the leathery neck support when he lifted his chin to look up at the stars.

"We're open targets," he mumbled into his beard.

"As opposed to the usual closed targets?"

"Close combat targets."

"Target training, even!" Chirrut exclaimed with feigned exasperation. "Except unlike the barn walls they train with or whatever, we move a bit too much for their tastes."

"There's nowhere to run in the desert," Baze pointed out.

"On the contrary," said Chirrut and lifted his finger. "There's a lot of space to run. But not..."

"...to hide," finished Baze with a dry chuckle. "Unless we blend in somehow."

"With the sand? Dig ourselves in... Or you could pass as a bantha."

"Don't test it," Baze said. There was humour in his tone, a hint of a smile. It was contagious whether it was actually there or not, for it reminded Chirrut of how much worse situations they had been in before.

"If you ever decide on the career of a bantha, I will employ you as my sole ride."

"Deal."

The silly conversation gave both of them reasons to smile, to _keep_ the smiles on their faces. A bit of more idle chatter about the engine kept them awake, Baze's eyes every now and then wandered to Chirrut's direction and he inspected what he saw. Truly, Chirrut was not easily cold, for he wore many layers, but for this particular heist they had not thought about taking blankets with them. Baze took a deep breath and opened his mouth to say something. Chirrut heard the sound of his mouth opening and lifted his hand to dismiss the question he already heard.

"I'm fine."

"I thought you're hungry," Baze said.

"Isn't that a given?"

"You look uncomfortable."

"I worry."

"Of everyone?"

"Everyone and everything. Yes, I know this is no time for worrying, for we must just wait. Waiting and worrying, it kills one inside."

"But you don't worry of us?"

"What's there to worry when I have the greatest Guardian by my side?"

Baze said nothing to it. Only the hum of the desert wind replied. Baze clicked one of the buttons in front of him, clicked it again. Chirrut didn't know what it was for, probably just an idle movement designed to fill an empty space.

"But you are cold," Baze then said. Chirrut couldn't but sigh as he wrapped his arms around himself tighter.

"I'll be fine. We don't have blankets with us anyway."

"Go to the back seat and lie down."

"How does that help? Will my body heat distribute more optimally?"

"I'll come there with you."

"Someone has to keep watch."

"My arms don't watch. They can hold you while my eyes stay on the look-out."

Gratitude swelled within Chirrut as he nodded. They moved to the back seat with ease, Baze got out of the vehicle entirely and Chirrut just slipped himself through the space between the two front seats. He pulled some of the cape that had been stuck between the seats and made space for Baze who sat next to him, against him. Baze's scent came over him like the scent of home did, had done long time ago when they had still had a room of their own in the temple, and it set Chirrut's heartbeat to an easier, slower rhythm.

As if the entire world had tilted to Baze's direction, so naturally did Chirrut lean to him. His head met the space between Baze's chest and shoulder as Baze wrapped the arm around Chirrut. From the immediate moment they had physical contact did Chirrut's insides start to warm up, did his skin feel less tight around him, did his jaws relax from the clenching motion he had unwittingly been doing. He wrapped his fingers around his staff he set between his legs on the speeder floor and let his eyelids close, engulfing the little light he saw into total darkness.

He let his soul wander in the Force around them, look out for things that pressed their mark into the world. Approaching souls, humans, droids, or animals, or anything at all. No malice or benevolence approached, everything was a natural emptiness around them. Only the quiet hissing of sand streams created by the wind, and the creaking sounds of the ship whenever Baze moved, entered his consciousness.

"It's peaceful here."

"We're still in danger."

"We're _always_ in danger, Baze."

A huff underlined the truth in Chirrut's words. He turned his head to nuzzle his nose against the warm fabric of Baze's overall, to breathe in the sweaty and dirty scent that had a charm to it, a charm of familial security.

Chirrut lifted his eyebrows and suppressed a yawn. Baze turned his head slowly, some of his hair tickled the top of Chirrut's head.

"I actually prefer this."

"Over what?" asked Baze.

Chirrut shrugged. "To quite many a thing. Tell me, how's the stars?"

"Aligned in their usual positions."

"So they're visible?"

"It's a clear night. The Star Destroyer blocks your favourite, though." Baze referred to the constellation Chirrut had talked to him a lot about, when he'd still had his sight. Long, long ago.

"Oh. Pity..."

"But it probably still looks the same." Baze cleared his throat. Then he spoke without moving his lips much, giving his tone a sleepy, mumbly impression. He leaned his head against the head rest and sighed deep before he continued. Chirrut shivered and Baze pulled him closer.

"The twinkling star on the left shoulder still has that odd red shade to it. The brightest one."

"Yeah."

"They say it may have already exploded, but we just can't know it yet. Light can't travel faster than light and all that."

"Obviously. But if it has, imagine all the kyber spread across the galaxy."

"The Empire would be long since gone," Baze said, "harvesting the beautiful stellar nursery dry of its nutrients."

"What a depressing thought."

"What a depressing life."

"Don't pull everything back to the Empire. Not now that we're here, far away."

"One hour away."

"Far away, like I said." A minute, an hour was a long time to be spent outside of the stormtroopers' clutches. One night, a luxury, a real vacation. Chirrut pushed frustration towards Baze's bitterness aside, for it had no space in this moment. And Baze did not need it.

The next yawn, Chirrut could not suppress. He let it come out into the sleeve he placed in front of his face, and soon heard how contagious it was. Through his yawn, Baze suggested:

"Sleep."

"I'm not that tired."

"Take a nap. I'll look out."

"My back will hurt."

"Take a nap, I said. You'll wake up if anything comes up."

"Will I?"

"You're sleepy. I don't need you to be sleepy once we get back to the city, alright."

"But you ca-"

"Chirrut." He stopped Chirrut's words by laying a kiss on Chirrut's forehead. His chapped lips scratched Chirrut's hairline ever so slightly. "I'll guard you."

**Author's Note:**

> This short fic was a response to two prompts: fixing a space ship + warming one another up in the Jedhan cold night. Thank you Twitter users EyebrowSka and Genjienthusiast for the prompts you gave me many many months ago.
> 
> It's also the first thing I ever wrote about these two. I found it from my files today and thought I'd share, even though there's a few things that feel a bit out of place in the context of what I know now, having read the book _Guardians of the Whills_ by Greg Rucka.
> 
> Please don't ask me about the speeder. I honestly pulled it out of thin air...


End file.
